Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-gi-oh
My Notes: I don't like this chapter. Hell, I don't like any chapter where I have to set things up. I don't know, this chapter just didn't want to come and I've tried my best to make it remotely interesting. I can only promise that the next few chapters that I've got lined up should be better. Of course there's no guarantee on that. But I guess if you're still reading this story you know that things will eventually come to a climax. When that happens, who knows? Anyways I'll try to keep at it.
And what happened to reality during these latest shows? I'm scratching my head wondering what kind of intuitive jump I need to make with my logic to watch what's unfolding? (An entire airplane empty? Seto and Alastor dueling on top of a 747? How the heck did he get aboard, or remotely near, a KaibaCorp plane anyways? My head hurts.)
Misgivings Looming
When Kisara returned to her slave quarters, everyone gave her a wide breath. This was more than likely due to the fact that she was covered from head to toe with bruises, cuts, and other injuries. Some of the other slaves whispered among themselves, while the slave master watched as Kisara winced her way to her bed of straw. As she settled for rest, the slave couldn't but help but shed a few tears from her blue eyes. For a long time, no one came remotely came close. Which was as it always was. But her silence and her 'wounds' insured the two lovers from suspicion.
For the next few days, no one dared defied the will of the High Priest. While he still demanded a lot of the workers and the soldiers, they were given a brief respite as the town was well fortified according to Sethos' designs. Temple construction was still behind schedule but there was nothing that could be done about that. All in all, everyday life returned to the small town, which put everyone's mind at ease.
Of course it couldn't last…
"I must set out to the south, brother," Sethos said as finished packing a knapsack full of scrolls. "I trust you can handle things while I'm away, Menkura?"
"Just stick to the things on the list," the younger brother answered in rote, glancing at the lengthy parchment he had in his hands. "Do you think all this is necessary?"
"I do not want the villagers to know that I'm missing. I just got here; it would upset them to know I was leaving so suddenly." Sethos closed the knapsack and let it stand on his desk. "What do you think?" The High Priest was no longer decked out in his official regalia, but in a merchant's garb: rough wool pants, a relatively clean linen shirt, and a loose head-circlet that hid most of his hair and covered the back of his head. Several small bags were tied to his sash-belt, each laden with coins worth up to five hundred gold. A sword was also attached, clearly visible by the bags. He draped a sand colored shawl around his shoulders.
"You look just like one of market merchants. Although you probably don't have a seller's call like most of them do." The young boy remembered his brother's failed attempts at singing; the only word that he chose to describe that painful act was riotous.
"Could be worse," Sethos stated as he slung a water flagon over his back. "I shouldn't be more than a few days. Try to keep things in order while I'm gone." He picked up the knapsack as well before taking the other exit out of his temporary office.
"Don't worry. Nothing's going to happen," the lion haired boy cried. "Come back safe, you hear?"
A string of camels and mules were just out of plain sight from the manor house where the High Priest was staying. Only his elite guards were aware of his plan to scout the southern border and only four of them were accompanying him. Saddling a camel, Sethos acknowledged their departure, taking them into the heart of the town, before exiting.
Though he didn't enjoy his unofficial outings, Sethos appreciated the need to see the villagers as they truly are and not how they acted in front of him. Many courtesies that he thought were given to everyone were immediately dropped. Certain truths were also exposed before the unwary visitor. As he gripped the reins of his ride, he wondered what his life would have been like if he hadn't entered public office. More than likely, I probably would have become a merchant, he thought to himself. Father did say I had a way with numbers and a liking to gold.
The sun was not yet overhead as the small train of animals left the town. A caravan this size would probably be gone a month's time. Nubian goods are well worth the effort however; the fabrics and spices go for too much for my liking. The sight of the lush scenery that lay far ahead slightly confused Sethos and he consulted his map. There's the desert, there's the Nile. Hmm. That kind of vegetation shouldn't be this far north, should it? Just one way to find out.
Travel was slow and incredibly boring. His guards weren't exactly suited for conversation either. The High Priest thought that a camel ride would be suitable for catching up on his reading, remembering the smooth ride he had coming south. Unfortunately his current camel, a student of the jostle school of locomotion, was giving such a rough ride that meant that Sethos had to readjust himself on the camel's hump every ten paces or so. And he would growl his dissatisfaction which you could mark with precision clockwork.
Needless to say after a long day's ride and after camp was set up and a small dinner was eaten, Sethos was finally given the chance to relax. A warm fire before him, he was now getting to the letters he had been sent during his absence in the country's politics. One scroll, which bore Prophetess Isis-Nefer's seal, caught his attention. The contents of the letter read as follows:
To the High Priest Sethos,
Esteemed colleague, I hope this letter finds you well. Strange occurrences are unfolding here at the palace. In light of your absence, the Pharaoh has turned to several new advisors, disregarding many of us who hold seniority. Many of these personages have been advocating full and total war among our northern brethren. Though he still seems reluctant, his eyes speak differently. They seem to have grown harder, fiercer. Perhaps it is only my imagination. But he has been pulling non-active garrisons closer to our northern border, much to my dismay. A precaution, he tells us.
Though palace life has yet to return to normal (what could be considered normal in our day?) there has been recent talk regarding the Millennium Ring and who should rightfully inherit it. Though there are still unsettling doubts regarding Priest Mahado's death, the Pharaoh urges us to move forward. Many of us priests wish to hold a contest to see who is skillful enough to wield it, as many of us have done in the past. A young woman, apparently Mahado's apprentice, seems the likely candidate to win. But again, our efforts are being thwarted by this new crowd of advisors. They wish to choose one of their own, which seems highly unorthodox as they have yet to release any information regarding their contender. An answer will be reported to us in a few days time.
Due to the lack of information we have regarding these newcomers, I have asked my brother to infiltrate their numbers. Though you would disapprove, Marik-Manu can be charming when he wishes to be. Perhaps he can find secrets that I, a lowly woman, cannot find out. I just hope that I am not risking my brother in this attempt. I shall keep you up to date as best as I can.
Speaking of which, how fares your tasks to the south? It seems so unexpected, given your recent illness and hasty recovery. Still you must know what is best for yourself. I would have——something. A vision just came to me! I apologize for ending my letter so abruptly but I must record this at once.
Sincerely,
-The Lady Isis-Nefer
Sethos was slightly dismayed by the abrupt ending to the letter and pawed through the rest of his mail to see if any others contained the prophetess' seal. Only one, just a few day old, was hidden among all the other parchment. He broke the royal seal and read the brief note in its nearly illegible scrawl:
Beware the white-haired ones! They seek an unholy goal! The Pharaoh knows! Do not return to the palace unless you plan to liberate it! My brother! They've taken my brother!
The note ended with water stained marks, most likely tears. "White-haired ones," Sethos whispered, recalling to memory that fellow traveler he saw, or thought he saw, on his way down south. His mind recalled the words that were spoken to him in warning: "As your desire grows, your vision dims. If you can forsake your longing, then you may be able to achieve the impossible." This is rubbish! Sethos thought to himself as he spat to one side. Only two logical choices came up in his mind: that Isis-Nefer was again sprouting irrelevant and false predictions or there was actually something concealed going on. But he had no way of determining anything happening inside the palace as long as he was in the south. As long as his objectives were unfinished, both official and personal, he couldn't go back north. I'll have to send Menkura. He shall have to be my eyes and ears. I can always trust my brother; he would never betray me.
The High Priest reread both letters again. His thoughts this time came to the white-haired one in his possession. Could Kisara be hiding things from me? he wondered. He shook his head. But she is no position to do anything and she is already carrying out a conspiracy to hide our love. His eyes widened at a remote possibility. Could it be our love is but a sham in order to get close to the High Priest, a string in order for me to do something against my bidding? He recalled all his history with the young woman. It couldn't have been planned. It just couldn't. He gritted his teeth and rose to fetch a flagon of water. Dousing his head with the water brought a chilling sensation to his pulsing mind. Mere speculation is useless. I must concentrate at the task at hand and go from there. Foremost on my agenda is to reconnoiter this area carefully. Then when I get back to the town, ensure that the temple is completed on time. Those are the only things I must do now. He shook his head to free it from excess water before returning to his place by the fire. There's enough on my mind already. I must forget all this nonsense of predictions, of the Pharaoh, and do my best as High Priest of Egypt. Whatever happens will happen because I choose it to happen, nothing more, nothing less. It was this thought that filled his mind as he watched the fire dwindle down, which would lead him to sleep as well.